Mentors
by BeverlyAnna
Summary: Peeta and Katniss are mentors now, and when the boy and girl selected as tributes from District Twelve are siblings, they're going to have to find a way to get them both out alive. Disregards Catching Fire and Mockingjay.


Summary:_ Peeta and Katniss are mentors now, and when the boy and girl selected as tributes from District Twelve are siblings, they're going to have to find a way to get them both out alive. Disregards _Catching Fire _and _Mockingjay.

Chapter One

Katniss's POV

It's our first time looking at the Games from this perspective. Peeta and I are safe and that's all well and good, but we're far from disconnected with the Games. Today, it's the reaping for the 75th Hunger Games. My stomach hasn't been this nervous, this unsettled, in months. I'm nervous about having someone else's life in my hands. I'm nervous of having to be on stage for all of Panem to see yet again. I'm nervous of one of Gale's siblings being picked — of anyone I know being picked. I think for a moment that it might be easier if I knew the tribute I would be guiding, but I quickly shake my head. I don't want to condemn anyone I know to this fate.

I do my best to keep myself busy, fussing with my hair and finding something presentable to wear in front of the cameras. I find Prim and help her dress, too. I work mindlessly on preparing something nice to eat, but I know I'll never enjoy it. After the reaping, I'll be whisked away, just like the tributes. I'll be placed on the same train they are and I'll be forced to help the tributes — or the girl tribute, as she's my main responsibility — strategize. I can't imagine doing this without Peeta by my side. I find myself once again understanding how Haymitch drinks. I shudder imagining having to guide thirty years worth of tributes and watching them all die.

Cooking is allowing my mind too much time to wonder. I abandon the leak soup I've been stirring on the stove in an effort to find my mother. She's in her room and looks as though she's going to be ill. I reassure her that I can't be picked and will be back in, hopefully, a few weeks, and Prim won't be picked — not twice in a row. Our family is safe, I tell her. It has to be.

Soon before any of us are ready, it is time to head to the square. This year, I will not wait with my age group. I will wait onstage and watch as someone in the audience is sentenced to a fate I strongly feel is worse than death.

My mother, Prim, and I meet Peeta and his parents outside of our houses in the Victors' Village. My mother never walks near Peeta's dad and Peeta's witch of a mother does not acknowledge mine. There's a quiet animosity between them. Something very tangible in the air, the awkward moment when the reason Peeta's parents can't acknowledge my mother is because Peeta's father loved her —loves her even. It would be awkward for anyone, but Peeta's mother's hateful demeanor makes it worse. I'm still not sure where Peeta and I stand exactly. We still very much act as a couple and I think it has become a pretty real thing. I try not to question it too much because it only makes my head hurt.

When we meet up, Peeta grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. "You didn't sleep at all last night," he tells me. It is not a question.

I look up into his blue eyes and notice the large bags under them. "Neither did you," I observe.

He shakes his head and tightens his grip on my hand. I am very aware of Prim and my mother just steps behind us. I don't want to sound scared about being a mentor, especially when I've survived much worse and today is going to be someone else's worst nightmare. Not mine.

I take a deep breath. "I don't want to go," I tell Peeta. "I don't want to have to watch this, be a part of it."

He nods understandingly at me and I know that he feels exactly the same way. The walk to this year's reaping is painful. After a couple more moments of walking in silence with Peeta, I call Prim up to my side.

"How're you doing?" I ask her, grabbing her hand with my free hand. She, Peeta, and I make a chain.

"I'll be fine, Katniss," she tells me quietly. And I know she is just saying it to be comforting.

I shake my head at her. "Prim, if it's you again —" I swallow hard, but can't continue.

"You can't step up for me," she says. "I know." When did Prim grow up? "But if it is me, you'll be with me every step of the way. And if it isn't me, you'll be there for someone else. You can do this, Katniss. We both can." I don't know how this turned into Prim giving me a pep-talk and not the other way around, but I am grateful for it. Her confidence in me helps a bit.

We have quickly reached the square and Prim leaves us to join her age group (though not before I hug her thoroughly and reassure her we'll be okay). Peeta and I separate from our parents and make our way to the stage.

Madge's father, Mayor Undersee, is sitting already. As is Effie Trinket. It is both a horrible experience and a wonderful relief to see her. I am happy to be getting intertwined with all of this mess knowing someone, even if that someone is only Effie. Haymitch is not on stage this year — Peeta and I have taken his place — and I imagine he's quite thankful for that.

Effie jumps up and greets us enthusiastically as we make our way onto the large platform. "It's going to be such a relief to work with you both!" she gushes. "And I know you'll be excellent influences on this year's tributes." We listen to her ramble on for a moment before taking out seats and my head is spinning. It is the best feeling I've had all day, sitting down now. I block out the crowd watching me. I feel like I'm about to let them all down. Instead, I decide I will turn my attention to Peeta who is silent. As I turn my head, I am unsurprised to find that he is staring at me.

"You think… you think they'll actually listen to anything we have to say, Peeta?" I ask him. I don't know if he was planning on saying anything, but if he was, he answers my question first instead.

"Are you kidding me?" he says, grabbing my hand. "You'll be impossible to ignore, commanding attention the way you do." I roll my eyes at him. "Really, though, Katniss. They've seen what you can do. They know you got an eleven in training from the Gamemakers. They're going to want pointers."

I shake my head, "You sound so sure."

"We did," he remarks. "Held onto to every word Haymitch said, didn't we?"

I sigh, this doesn't appease me. Effie had let us know just how civilized we had been compared to past tributes. Not that manners were a big deal in the Games, but… What if we ended up with two kids who had no survival instincts? Two kids who had no respect? Two kids who wanted to watch out for themselves only? Peeta and I decided we would wait to decide an angle for our tributes until after they had been selected and we had met them. The pressure of devising a plan is not bad, but not knowing who we will be working with is driving me mad.

After what seems an eternity of Peeta telling me reassuring things and both of us squeezing each other's hands, things get underway.

Exactly as the clock strikes two, Mayor Undersee steps up and talks about the history of Panem, he tells us about the Games, he reads off the names of the only four victors District Twelve has had. Then he is finished. Effie comes up after him and cheerily says, "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be _ever _in your favor." It is the same script each year. Effie speaks a bit more and then she pulls the names of the victors. First, the girl.

We wait with baited breath as Effie pulls out the name. Slowly, dreadfully slowly, she announces the name Whisper Monarch Halsey. I don't know this name, but it doesn't take me long to find a face to connect it to. A girl in a pale orange dress with long, dark hair and large, expressive brown eyes shakes her way up to the stage. Effie welcomes her grandly and then moves on to picking the boy tribute. I face the girl, Whisper, and try to give her a reassuring smile, but she isn't seeing me. She's facing the crowd with her fingers crossed behind her back. I can see her face displayed on the screens around the square and she looks determined.

I have to stop analyzing her as Effie calls out the name of the boy — Mason Halsey. Whisper immediately drops her hands and curses. Any trace of determinism she was wearing vanishes from her face. She's crushed. I wonder if the boy is her younger brother — he looks young. Surely, with the same last name they are related. He even looks like her — dark hair, wide brown eyes. But he's slender, borderline emaciated, while Whisper looks a little better fed. I worry he doesn't have a chance in the Games, but I try to tell myself not to think that way.

I grab Peeta's hand tight. It's the only weakness I show; I don't want any fears displayed on TV for all of Panem to see. The Mayor speaks and tells the boy and girl to shake hands. As they face each other, I get a real sense of just how short the boy is. Whisper towers over him. As they lean in to shake hands, the Mason begins to cry and Whisper pulls him into a hug. It's touching and it's tragic and it scares me. We can't keep two victors alive, not again. We'll be lucky if one of them lives.

As they hug, the anthem begins to play and then they're whisked off of the stage and into the Justice Building.

Peeta and I have been instructed to follow Effie straight to the train where they will bring the tributes after they've had a chance to say their goodbyes. We have to wade our way through dozens of cameras before we are on the train and it is safe to speak.

"Brother and sister," Peeta tells me the moment we are alone. "He's twelve; she's fifteen. Their mother is a frequenter of the Bakery."

I nod. It would figure that for out very first year we'd get tributes who were going to need each other. It almost seems like a cruel joke. Like the Capitol is finding another way to punish us; trying to show us that there can't be two victors again. Even if one of them wins, they lose.

"Do they ever come in with her?"  
>Peeta shrugs, "I'm not sure. I've seen them a couple of times, so maybe. They come in together sometimes, too. Just the two of them. They're close, Katniss."<p>

I sigh as we walked further down the train car. Effie has informed us that we may pick whichever rooms we choose, so eventually we will have to stop and pick a couple.

"The boy," I say, "he looks so weak." Peeta nods in agreement. "If he loses she's going to give up, isn't she?"

Peeta tells me he doesn't know. He thinks that maybe if one of them loses the other will be inspired to win in their honor. I hope he's right, but I find it hard to agree.

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Please let me know what you think; criticism is invited, especially on characterization. There's more to come, so be sure to stay tuned! Cheers!_

_~BeverlyAnna_


End file.
